


Traitor's Penance

by OKami_hu, oksammich



Series: Tarnished Silver [3]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brother Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oksammich/pseuds/oksammich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chronicles of Loki's exile to Midgard and some stories about his time before. Thor prepares his brother to face punishment. Loki has a last wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Third part of Tarnished Silver; still paving the course to exile. This part has some actual smut that hopefully will please some readers. Enjoy!

He'd lain on his knees for quite some time, his chin on his chest and his hands useless atop his lap. There, he watched in mourning as the small bauble of light bobbed away, and there, he cried out for it long after it was gone, no longer even a spot behind his eyelids. "Please.. Please come back.."

His voice didn't even echo.

It plunged into the thick blackness and was suffocated, swallowed whole by leering mouths that opened wider and wider and wider. So he wept. He laid his face in his arms and let the tremors take him. Loki wished fervently to die then. The dark was acceptable until he was forced to recall what it was like to live with the light on his face; after that, it was a knife to the throat, taunting and merciless. How long would it be before the women arrived again? How he'd wished for a word, a laugh, a sigh--anything to pierce the clouds and provide him a moment's reprieve!

"Come back..! Come back!"

His fingernails were broken. They'd grown long when he'd first arrived, but after small eternities spent without contact, he'd taken to clawing at the floor just for some semblance of touch. He felt no grit, no dip where stone-met-mortar-met-stone, no dirt, no tiny flecks of sand, nothing that would indicate that there was a world outside of this place.

"Please come back!"

He dug into the ground. His breath came as thick as cotton, pushed out at his clogged nose and ripping through his lips in a hiss. "Come back!" His fingers stung, yet he continued to slam them to the ground. He needed something. Anything. Something to break the fog and tell him there was dirt just inches beneath them. "Come back! Come back, I beg you, come back!" The hissing rose to a scream and he struggled to breathe.

For another eternity, there was nothing. Just the same darkness, the same since and the presence of demons behind it all. Loki the Traitor was going mad, slowly sinking, drowning. Alone. Forgotten.

Then, there was a sound.

His head snapped up. There was light. Beautiful, precious light, but it wasn't that struck him like a giant's fist. Even from afar, he could see that he only received one visitor this time.

It was the Sun.

His vision was a blur, but he saw enough to know that it would be well worth it to struggle. So he jerked, hard, chafing his wrists on the shackles, and with a choked sob, he began to fight. "Please.. Don't go.."

And like a blessing, it drew closer, strong and radiant as he'd remembered. And it danced down bronze, licking crimson that curved around the shoulder and hip and glided over the ground. He pushed his hands forward, because he saw the rays trailing down around a strong face inlaid with the sky. "Please..!"

Closer and closer, closer than ever. The light engulfed both of them, it was almost blinding - the lamp and the visitor's brilliance. With a whisper of cloth, the other kneeled, holding the light up still, so they could both see. The stormclouds wept their salty rain and and the finely drawn lips trembled. "Loki..." Thor's voice was veiled, broken. "I have... I have come for you, my brother."

With a low, pained cry, he threw himself forward as hard as he could. His shoulder joints ached in protest, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He buried his face in warmth and heat and light, and wept bitterly, as he could not wind both arms around the blessing. "Please do not leave me here again.."

He kept pulling, twisting, winding his body into painful shapes just so he could touch as possible.

Thor was not restrained though; he set the lamp down and threw his arms around the wretched form, crushing his brother against his chest. He buried his nose into Loki’s hair - smelling faintly of soap, the servants took care of him well - and moved forward to meet those desperate attempts for gaining contact.

“I am here, my brother,” he murmured. “I have come for you and I will stay as long as I can. Hush, it is over. You will be prisoner no longer.”

His breath came in crackled, desperate pitch, eyes squeezed shut to fight the flood of hot and wet that threatened the corners of his eyes. Though he could not embrace his brother in return, his fingers still curled in mimicry of touch, of hold, like they were curled around cloth and skin instead of black air. In his panicked relief, he was nearly deaf to the soft reassurances.

"He would not allow a traitor free. Am I to be executed?"

Thor the Mighty choked on a sob. "I do not know... but Allfather finally agreed to decide about your fate. I came to gather you and make sure you can stand proud, facing his verdict." He backed away a bit, measuring his brother from top to toe. It's been so long he last saw Loki.

Loki lurched forward. Fear manifested as a soft moan, his eyes brimming as he mourned that loss of contact. "Thor.. Brother..."

His lips quirked into a mirthless smile. "What verdict would be most fitting for a traitor?" He had always been pale, but under the light, so contrasted with his prison, Loki the Trickster looked no more alive than a corpse. His pupils were dilated, gaze listless--always moving, darting, following the flickering light. "I will be sentenced to live out my days here. Will my beloved not spare me the agony?"

"You will NOT," Thor declared firmly. "No matter what, you will not coming back here. Your days here are over. The judgement will be spoken today... I got permission to make you presentable. You could do with a meal, I'm sure." His fingers gently caressed a stray strand of hair from the smooth forehead. "My brother... My heart is breaking for you."

Helpless to his misery, his lips caught the underside of Thor's wrist and pressed firmly to the pulsepoint that was so very -real- beneath the skin. It was true. This was no dream, no last efforts of a broken mind to provide comfort, no trick from another sorcerer.. This was Thor, his brother (not my brother, not!) who loved him still.

"Spare your pity," came the blade dulled by loneliness but a blade, a blade, a blade, "We both know that this is a just punishment. I deserve to be here, like this; I do not deserve your kindness."

He met those eyes, those sorrowful eyes, and finally let himself fall. The tears were sparse from a gaze exhausted from weeping, leaving fresh tracks down snowy flesh as he bowed his head. "Oh, my brother..."

The crimson cloak detached from the shoulder clasps and it wrapped around the Traitor, like an embrace. "I have never stopped loving you," the golden prince whispered. "I opposed you and I resented your decisions and disapproved of your actions and I have been angry and sad... but I loved you all the same. I promised you countless times that I will. You will come with me now. I'll see to it that you're bathed, dressed and fed before you face Allfather."

Grief spotted the beautiful cloak, darkening crimson to a deep, muted berry. He found he couldn't bear to look into his brother's face, so instead, he dropped his shackled wrists to the floor and inched closer.

He remembered when his legs were shorter, when he'd seen Thor among the branches of a smooth, white tree. Blue eyes sparkling, he reached down and the sunlight streamed through his golden hair. It was long, so long back then, and free about his shoulders. They linked hands and Loki was flying. He was in the tree with his brother, the both of them ascending to the indigo sky, but all he could see was the sun, the sun...

His hand was too small. He gripped a branch more suited for a larger boy and he fell; he remembered hearing the bone snap more than actually feeling it, and Thor looked just as he did now, blaming him and angry with him and so sad, but he held him like this and loved him just the same.

"You will.. stay with me?" He was begging like a spoiled child. "I know my sentence will be harsh, and I wish to..." His voice broke under the weight of the words.

The chain that bound him to the ground snapped. Shackles still curled around his wrist, but he was free to rise if he so wished. "I will accompany you until the very end. I'll send the servants away." Thor hesitated, and reached back, for something he hung on his belt earlier. Loki knew it all too well; he had way too many chances to feel its cold metallic kiss. "For the last time, brother." The prince's tone and eyes carried the apology.

"Thor, please..!" Panic bit his throat, tearing and clawing all the way, and he physically flinched from the muzzle. But he would be allowed into the light again. Would it not be worth the humiliation?

Eyes downcast, he stepped forward, parted his lips, and let the metal force his jaw into place, tongue pinned against the delicate membrane as bronze dug into the roof of his mouth. He stayed still as the lock clicked.

The look of sympathy was not unrewarded. Though tears came unbidden, he stood on tiptoe, moaned a soft sound of forgiveness, and brushed their cheeks together.

A kiss replied him, tender and loving, and Thor brushed away the tears. "I'll remove it once we're alone", he promised quietly. "Now come." He seized the short chain linking the cuffs, picked up the lamp and began to lead Loki towards the real light - radiant Asgard's sweet air and warmth, so he would not die in darkness.

He kept his eyes downcast, walking with slow careful strides that kept him at least three paces behind the Mighty Thor. The light he'd longed for was overwhelming, causing pain to his dark-addicted pupils and threatening him with a throbbing in his forehead that only occurred after days spent wide awake.

Behind the muzzle, he was trying to smile. He smelled freshness and air, movement, life, soaps, well-cooked food, clean cloth, all the scents of his childhood that he'd taken for granted.


	2. Chapter 2

Never did he think that his brother would lead Loki the Traitor to his own chambers. Clothed in gold and crimson, with the scent of polish and freshly-carved wood, there was naught but his brother in every breath, every particle of air. He stood in the doorway, feet refusing to budge.

He would die. Odin Allfather would seek out the harshest punishment for his ungrateful charge. There would be nothing left of him but ash, a distant, whispered memory.

His exhausted gaze slid over Thor's strong frame. Could he give this man nothing but sadness? He took from him now, lungs filled with Thor, skin prickling with his presence, breath like a song as he raggedly hid his sorrow, and Loki knew that he selfishly wanted to have this man. He would never have the same devotion, he knew, as innocence had been stricken from Thor's gaze the moment he discovered that Loki was his enemy. But perhaps...

The green-eyed prince pulled away, knew Thor would release his bonds, and took staggering steps back to his bedchamber. He fell forward into a sea of rich, beautiful fabric, buried his face into the cloth, and breathed his brother into his very blackened soul.

He was rolled over gently and steely fingers sneaked to his nape to release the muzzle's lock. It clicked, slipping looser; Thor gently eased the metal from his brother's mouth. For a few seconds, he stared at the device, cool surface slick with saliva, then tossed it to the side and pulled Loki close, into another crushing embrace and just held him, like a drowning man clings to a piece of the broken mast.

He pushed his hands forward, sliding both around his waist. Fingers curled in the exposed part of his tunic. Eyes squeezed shut, he smiled into his throat. "Will you remove the shackles..? I swear on my life, I will not attempt to harm you."

His skin smelled so good, clean, soft and hot against his face.

"Were I merely your brother, I'd crush these with my own hands - but I am the future king. You are Loki the Trickster. And..." Thor swallowed. "Your life is the last thing you can swear upon. I am sorry. I'm risking Father's ire just by bringing you here." He sat up and proceeded to undress. "I will do everything to make you feel better, I promise."

He pushed down the knot in his throat and nodded quietly. Why should he be allowed any sort of freedom? "I am grateful to be without that wretched thing," he murmured, chin pointed toward the muzzle, "So I shall appreciate your gift."

At least not openly. Loki inched forward, pushed his nose against the back of Thor's ear, and gently kissed his sensitive neck. Best he could, he assisted in removing the clothing, unlacing and tugging with slender fingers. "Thor.. Please, not so quickly. May I enjoy you?"

“Enjoy-?” Thor echoed, then a sad little smile flashed across his handsome face. “Of course. While we’re here together, I’m yours.” He assumed Loki was starving to touch after that much time spent isolated from everything. The prince’s hands stilled, allowing his brother to undress him.

Starving, he was. Loki pushed forward, cheek brushing over Thor's and lips finding every inch of skin he could reach. He cursed the shackles, heavy on his wrists, but he was able to unlace the leather straps that held his breast plate in place. It hit the ground with a clatter, then his fingers slid up beneath his undershirt. "I've missed you so," he murmured, teeth to his ear, his jugular vein, where his heartbeat fluttered beneath his mouth, "I never thought I would see you again.."

"I felt the same," Thor whispered back, fingertips brushing against the ghostly pale skin. It felt oddly cold... it made him wanting to warm it up until it flushed with a lovely rosy tint. "No matter what... You kept haunting my dreams and lonely hours. I remembered our time together, when we were young, and my heart was breaking with the loss." He tangled his fingers into the raven hair, to keep the Trickster close. "Even if the future looms above us, I am happy to share more time with you."

"No matter how short my time is, even if I am doomed to Hel, just this last day together will turn the darkness into the light of Valhalla." He peeled the shirt down from Thor's strong arms, pinning his wrists and upper arms to his muscular sides. His tongue was cool against the other man's hot skin, laving up over his chest and across a darkened nipple. His teeth followed, leaving a mark just above his heart. The bite would fade, but for the next few days at least, he would be a throbbing bruise on his golden flesh. Eyes flicking up, he gave a soft, sad little smile. "My brother... I promised myself that I would ask nothing of you, but I have one last request of you."

"Speak up my brother; if it is in my might, I will fulfill your wish." _'Last wish'_ a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him, sending a flash of pain across his chest. Thor took a deep breath; partly to keep his racing heart and breath under control. The closeness, the light kisses and that bite - they reminded him of other times back then, and made his blood course faster in his veins.

He sat back, weight settled over his ankles, and dropped his eyes. "You were the first to know me," he murmured, fingers ghosting down the front of Thor's strong body. He couldn't bear to look at his face. "Will you take me..? Love me again, brother, just one last time.."

It took a few confused moments for the meaning to get through. Thor flushed as memories came unbidden of gracefully arching bodies, swaying hair and overwhelming pleasure. It's not that he would have been against it - but the shackles weren't just there to restrict the Trickster's movements; they kept his magic from working. Loki knew he wouldn't be able to assume female form again, like he did so many times after the first, accidental occasion... So he could only mean to-

"Brother mine, I cannot," Thor pleaded gently. "I would never degrade you as such. Could you turn into that lovely lass again, I would not hesitate, but a warrior being taken suffers disgrace. And I love you so much more than that."

"You cannot, or will not?" He knew well what their last romance would mean: he would be less of a man, degraded and shamed to carry the seed of another. But he feared neither shame nor fear, and inched forward on his knees. His slim fingers slid to grip Thor's wrists, pulled, and with a little strain, he was able to bring Thor to sit. "I am no warrior. I am less than an Asgardian. I will die today, brother--Odin Allfather will have my life and I will face oblivion for my sins." Loki felt his chest ache, but he would not let Thor see the tears starting to form. "I have nothing to give you but this.. my body, from the inside out. Please, my brother.. please let me have this?"

“Loki!” Thor grabbed the frail shoulders - they seemed to be frailer than ever. “I cannot...! How could I- Don’t degrade yourself so, you are my brother, an Odinson! You are a warrior - I can’t, I just can’t have you beneath me!” That, and he have never taken a man for lover. Of course, he had an inkling how it went, gossip was as mighty as the gods, gaining access to every ear, but still... He was afraid of hurting the Trickster.

His face heated up as he realized that he was actually willing to engage. This was a prisoner’s last wish, Loki’s wish... And it’s been so long they last knew each other like that.

He touched the golden prince's broad chest, spread his fingers, and slowly pushed his hands up and over his shoulders. There was a chance he could not have his way, that he would go to his death craving a touch that he would not be allowed to have, and for all of his control, his careful planning and foresight, he felt himself starting to panic. "Have I broken your heart so that you could not bear to make love to me?" His long fingers curled in his brother's hair. "Do you believe for a moment that any affection of yours would be a punishment to me? I've longed for you.. please allow me to earn your forgiveness."

"I have forgiven you long ago..." Thor protested weakly, feeling his defenses crumble. The God of Mischief's silver tongue was a powerful weapon even if not backed up by enchantment. He curled around his brother, drawing him into a warm embrace.

"My heart did break but that would not stop me... Brother, my dearest brother, I don't want to hurt you. You know me- Is this really what you want?"

He gave a sad twitch of the lips, rose up onto his knees, and crawled forward until he straddled Thor's broad lap. Though the shackles made it difficult, he took to picking at his own clothing, starting at the hem of his tunic and hauling it up over his head. The cloth caught at his wrists, yet more binding to keep him docile. His frame was still sleek and lightly muscled, but thinner, smaller from lack of concern for sustenance when in the face of vengeance. "Why do you doubt my words? I wish to feel you inside, just one more time; show me your compassion, my brother. My loneliness has been unbearable." Loki hitched his hips up, fumbling with the trousers next. "I have felt like a monster for far too long. But you.. you can make me feel like a prince again, an Asgardian, someone.. worthy. Chase the darkness away, my beloved."

The God of Thunder rested his hands on Loki’s, over the sharp hipbones, effectively stopping the Trickster from undressing further. Thor remained silent for a while, struggling with himself inside; but his love was indeed greater for his wayward brother than his respect for conviction. He gently fisted into the raven hair, tugging Loki’s head back and the grazed his teeth over the pale column of his neck.

“I cannot deny you this, my brother,” he whispered. “If you want me to love you, for the very last time... then I will.” His lips pressed against Loki’s, just like back then.

The sound that escaped was the cry of a drowning man surfacing for the last time and calling out into the darkness. His fingers went lax, eyelids fluttering as he leaned in to hungrily taste his brother's full lips. He hadn't realized how wonderful it all felt, to be warmed with just a simple kiss; he felt like a child still, always depending on his brother to save him from all that was bad and frightening in the Nine Realms. Here he was again, willfully taking shame just to make his ungrateful brother happy. "I do..." he gasped, feeling himself swell between his thighs, "I do, my brother.."

The contact deepened slowly, until the point where it couldn't any further; the golden prince was taken over by a dark passion, almost trying to devour his brother. His tongue mapped out the cool mouth, gliding over rows of pearly teeth, twining with its counterpart. Thor's hands couldn't rest still either; they roamed over a bare back and shoulders, kneading muscles beneath.

When the need for air became absolutely intolerable, he tore away his head, just to look into Loki's eyes. "I want to spoil you first," he murmured, sneaking his arms around the thinner frame, to lift it up.

Even with wrists bound by both his shirt and shackles, he was determined to embrace the beautiful prince like he'd done so many times before. He moaned through the kisses, skin sensitized by just the gentle tugging of his hair. His eyes were hazy when Thor broke away, lips swollen from contact. "Anything, beloved.." he murmured, before delving for another kiss, all tongue and desperate lips, arms tight around the back of his neck. "I'm yours." He pushed his hips forward to earn some much-needed friction against Thor's stomach, then with a sigh, he began to grind against him. "Anything.."

He was swept up into Thor's arms in the next moment. "Then, off to the bath with you," the golden prince smiled. "I'm sure you could do with a bit of warmth. You feel so cold. No need to rush; our time might be short, but it'll be still plenty enough for what we're planning." He headed for the bathchamber, cradling his brother to his chest. The bath was already drawn, soft towels waiting as well and scented soap, oils and everything they could need.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp! Apologies for the wait, I was kinda out of it.

The spoiled prince within him was overjoyed at this luxury, the scent of the soap gently reminding him of all he'd lost. "Oh, Thor, this is..." He twitched his hands, burying them in the strong muscles, then using them to draw his brother down for another deep kiss. "Spoiling indeed. It looks wonderful." While he truly preferred not to be carried like a blushing bride, he didn't have it in his heart to protest. He was never bothered by the cold thanks to his cursed heritage, but the heat generated by those strong arms was a comfort that he could not ignore. "I am a bit overdressed, wouldn't you agree?"

“Definitely.” He was lowered on a low stool to sit and Thor kneeled down, seeking out and undoing the clasps on the shirt’s shoulder. The garment yielded and was tossed aside; then the prince wordlessly ushered Loki to stand so he’d be able to pry the pants off the slim hips.

Then, there was a pause. Thor had seen his brother’s pride countless times - even touched it-, but today... it was different still. Hesitantly, he caressed the slender penis resting between pale thighs and looked up, a little helplessly. He didn’t know how to go about it, how to give his brother all the pleasure possible - but he wanted to do it, since it was a parting gift, the last act of kindness he’d be able to bestow.

It was still so erotic, after all of these years, to stand bare before another man and know he was desired. It spoke directly to his ego, murmuring that despite the teachings they'd grown with, despite knowing that for a man to be on his knees for another man was a deadly blow to worth and masculinity, Thor laid eyes upon a man, wanted that man, and sought to debase himself for that man. And that man was a monster, a traitor, unworthy of even a Midgardian whore to offer herself to. Loki stared down at those beautiful lips, unable to suppress the sadistic wave of pleasure that shuddered through him.

They'd been through all of Hel, and this was what it took for him to finally stand above the Golden Prince? It took all he had to fight back a cruel sneer. He wished to bury his manhood in that hot mouth and watch as Thor struggled to please him, but he could not bring himself to breach this fragile trust. He could hurt his brother badly now; but he would not. "I would never ask this of you," murmured he, fingers trailing down the strong cheek, "But if this is your wish, I will accept your gift happily." His heart was pounding in his throat. Loki swallowed it down. "There is no trick. Merely mind your t-teeth."

Thor flushed a fetching crimson and stared at the floortiles, the side, the other side - everywhere but Loki. It’s not that he was fond of the idea, he never had his face so close to a man’s crotch, he felt awkward at the thought of having a penis in his mouth, but, he loved his brother and being a king wasn’t about always doing what he wanted or avoiding what he didn’t.

Hands were fine, though. Thor steeled himself and leaned close, pressing a kiss against the skin just above the base of the manhood. Loki never grew a single hair on his body or chin, he remained smooth and flawless like a marble statue. The golden prince curled his fingers around the slowly stirring length and stroked. Soon enough, he rose and twirled Loki around, embracing him from behind; he continued to tug on the hardening flesh, but also caressing the pale chest and belly, rolling the nipples and showering the shoulders with kisses.

He'd always hated feeling small, sleek to his brother's muscles, folded in his arms and powerless to do anything about it. This was a safe place, where he was loved and treasured, yet his mind itched; his hands were still shackled, and wouldn't be allowed to summon a spell, even if he didn't -truly- need to fight.

The fingers sliding over him felt reverent, which aided his racing mind a great deal. He was swollen, pale length flushed and curved up toward his navel, and as Thor touched him, he couldn't help his pride.

Even after all he'd done to the Golden Prince, Thor remembered every spot that made Loki arch. The thought intensified the nerve endings under Thor's hands, leaving him burning and shuddering, gasping quietly for breath.

There was a wet heat against his back, and when he rocked against it, he felt that thick head push against his rear. "Oh.. By the gates of Valhalla, you're so big, my brother!!"

The hug tightened and the bearded chin brushed against the crook of the Trickster's neck. "That's what makes me worried... Forgive me for stalling... but it is such an unfamiliar territory for me. I'm willing to fight the battle for you though. But first... Let me wash you. You smell of dust and shadows and I want that off you."

He grinned, nestling back into his chest and squeezing Thor's wrists. "I am not afraid, beloved--you should not be afraid, either." Tipping his head back, he kissed his brother's chin, then broke away for his last tendrils of luxury.

The water was wonderfully hot. He shuddered as it embraced him, the oils inside seeking to relax his muscles and gently wash away his small eternity of misery. With a sigh, he plunged his whole head underneath, all fingertips and tight muscle and frustrated sorrow sliding through his hair, neck, chest.. It felt good.

They were soon followed by real finger, massaging, relaxing him even further. Then the treatment moved to his shoulders, kneading the muscles, working out knots that formed an eternity ago. Then, a fine fragrance filled the air, citrus, green apples and a hint of mint. Thor began to work the shampoo into Loki's hair, smiling to himself.

As if bad things have never happened, everything was so calm and comfortable.

When he surfaced, it was with a sound akin to a sob. The time faded away, everything stopping for these blessed moments while he was spoiled, undone by hands meant to break. They were like velvet to his skin, handled him like glass and cradled him like he wasn't a traitor, an ugly, pale little wretch, a despicable thing..

Like he wasn't a monster.

He closed his eyes and hoped the water would hide the physical manifestation of his relief. It came in two lazy tracks, one on each cheek, and he had to bite his tongue to keep his voice in check. After so long feeling as if he wasn't worth being scraped from the bottom of his brother's oldest, filthiest boots, becoming a prince again was far too much.

Loki rested his hands over the base of his throat and hiccuped, turning in on himself. "Thank you," he croaked softly.

"Any time," Thor murmured before he could catch himself. He went silent and proceeded with his task of giving the Trickster's silky hair a proper treatment. Once he deemed it enough, he carefully washed the scented foam off, making sure none of it got into Loki's eyes. He reached for liquid soap and a washcloth next.

It wouldn't be "any time". His shoulders pinched, and as soon as Thor rinsed his hair, he turned around and wound his arms tight about his neck. "Please.."

He scrubbed gently at his chest, unable to stop the flow of cursed tears that burned his eyes. Loki gathered up soap as well, laving those hardened muscles with shaking hands, committing them to memory. Not that it would matter.

He'd be executed soon, probably not even given a proper funeral; he'd be buried, his rotting body damned to be walked over and forgotten.

Thor squirmed out of his pants and promptly slid into the tub as well. The water overflowed but he didn't care. He just wanted to make those tears stop. He knew there were enough tears to feed a river, and he wanted his brother to forget everything for a little while. So he kissed him and moved into his touch, sliding their bodies against each other.

He kissed his apologies into the full, hot mouth; he'd managed to splash the front of Thor's trousers, knocked suds to the floor, and made a right mess of things. As usual. "I regret all that I've ever done," he murmured, words tumbling all over each other in a rush he couldn't control, "I have never done right by you, my brother, and now I will suffer the consequences of my actions."

Loki laid his head against the other's shoulder and wept softly. His fingers shook against the bare skin, slipping as he pressed as close as he possibly could. "I will miss your coronation. I will never kiss the hand of your bride or hold your son in my arms. I will not hear your wise decrees, I will never be blessed with a day under your just and peaceful rule, I will never hear stories of your triumphs.. I will have nothing, because of my envy. Oh, my brother, please forgive me..!"

"Stop ripping at your own heart, brother...! I have forgiven." Thor just held him; there was nothing he could do. Except maybe crying with him.

He nodded weakly, still absently rubbing soap and suds until there was no more left. His eyes hurt, chest ached, but all was right in the world so long as Thor didn't let go. Hitching his hips up, he arched forward for more contact, which he finished by pushing their most sensitive places tight together. "I never wished for you to see me behave this way."

"Me neither." Thor placed his hands on the tight buttocks and pulled, to rub his developing erection against Loki's. His defenses were crumbling as the moments ticked by, pushing them closer to the inevitable end. The golden prince moaned and licked and nuzzled at his brother's ear. "Teach me... I wish to give."

Of course Thor the Mighty would find some shred of satisfaction in caring for another. Ever the protector, he'd always had a tendency to mark his self-worth by how well he'd protected someone. Loki pushed back against him, the pangs of his heart subsiding as he slid his hand down between the erection and his posterior. "I'll need to be slick," he hissed, slowly easing a finger inside of himself to prepare, "I am willing to do it myself if you have oil."

Of course, the thought of those large fingers cramming inside wasn't an unpleasant one. Not in the least.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand pleasant dreams. =3 The next part is all action scenes and cute.

For a moment, the golden brow furrowed, then the storm-blue eyes lit up and Thor climbed out of the water. He promptly walked to a tall, slender cabinet and took a vial from it, which he showed to Loki once he walked back to the tub. "This is an ointment for muscle pain, enhanced with a drop of magic... Slick enough, smells nice and soothes the ache." He was beaming with pride. "I guess this will do?" He took out the stopper and placed it aside, scanning Loki's entire anatomy, trying to come up with a good position.

He leaned on the edge of the tub with his elbows and eyeing the vial quietly. "You did well. I am certain this will do nicely," he praised.

Of course he knew how well-endowed his brother was, but as he got a good look at his manhood, he felt a thrill of panic and delight. How many of his own fingers would it take before he could comfortably take that massive thing? His gaze flicked to one hand and watched the slim fingers drum the air.

It was certainly easier when his body was actually -built- for such use. The trickster climbed from Thor's tub, snagged up the vial, and poured a fair amount of oil onto his forefinger and middle finger. Legs spreading, he went about the task of rubbing his own opening in soothing, painless circles. "You will need some, too."

Thor nodded mutely, just standing there for a few moments, all dripping and twitching at some places. The sight was oddly arousing. He wanted to do that. He stepped closer, running a hand down along the graceful curve of Loki's back. "Allow me," he pleaded and he pressed a fingertip against the hidden entrance.

The touch reawakened his manhood, coaxing it to perk and stand at attention. His finger was big, and as it pushed against him, Loki felt a moan building in his throat. His body provided resistance at first, but gave in with only a bit more prodding thanks to the relaxing oil.

It was unlike anything he'd done before. Loki held onto his brother's shoulders, one leg bending at his chest to expose the opening further. "O-oh.." His fingers scrabbled over bronze flesh and dug in as he took a breath, then bore down around him, all the way to the third knuckle. "My brother.. There is certainly nothing small about you."

Thor chuckled and pulled his finger out halfway, only to slide it back - a small taste of what will come. He continued for a while, curiously watching his brother's reactions, until he felt that his ministrations became perfectly effortless. "I should add another finger, right...?" he ventured, glancing at the vial. More oil, too.

It wasn’t pleasurable, nor was it painful. It was just.. strange. He was shaking around every movement, wide-eyed and confused by the odd feeling of being filled so completely. The fingers only reached so far--he knew well that this sensation would only be intensified once his brother was inside. "Yes.."

He paused and looked down. His breath caught. Thor's finger was inside, a second pressed to his slick hole, and like a shameless whore, Loki's member was weeping, begging for contact. The sight made him clench. His walls twisted tight around Thor's fingers and pushed them up against--

"Oh, damn!!!" Electricity whited out his vision, immediately draining the tense being to a boneless, whimpering shade of himself. As his cock dripped and his toes curled, he squeezed the flesh under his hands. "Wh-whatever you did, do it again."

"But I didn't do anything...!" Thor protested, startled. He eyed Loki with worry, then realized that his brother was actually asking him to continue... Curiously, he slowly pushed his fingers back inside, after all, they were fairly deep in when Loki cried out... He dared to turn his hand, mapping out the inside of the tight channel. There had to be an indication, some kind of bump, like...

His eyes widened a bit. He definitely knew of a good spot of females, maybe males had something like that, too...? After all, there HAD to be something, some good reason why warriors decided to throw dignity away and bow to another's will.

Suddenly, sitting in a bathroom with his legs spread and his brother's hand shoved halfway inside didn't seem such a bad idea. "O-of course you.. didn't.." he breathed, scowling in frustration as he tried to earn that contact again, "You never were one for.. hf, paying attention.."

His clinical eye regarded their situation, then pieced together the most plausible way that the accidental pleasure could have occurred. At least, it tried. The only coherent thought in his mind was insane: he wanted more inside. His cheeks flushed. "Put more oil on your fingers."

The order was met with immediate obedience; Thor poured a generous amount on his fingers and made sure to smear a few fat drops over the opening before pushing back in. He figured the point would be loosening the tight muscles so he would fit. He began to move his fingers, crossing and spreading them and rubbing cautiously, going in as deep as he could.

It wasn't the same sudden onslaught of pleasure, but it was just as debilitating. The thick fingers were calloused, and when they brushed that same spot, it tore a series of small, desperate cries from his mouth. "Love of the Allfather, please..!"

He arched his hips up, and was rewarded immediately with a wave of heat that blinded him. Loki grabbed his brother's wrist and pulled hard, thrusting those fingers in as deep as they could go. After managing a third digit inside, he began to take himself hard and fast, using that thick hand roughly.

Asgard's future king just stood there, providing an excellent imitation of a mildly surprised fish. The sight was so sinful, so decadent, so arousing, his own erection was starting to demand undivided attention. His muscles tightened, like a bowstring, his heart raced and he licked his lips. Loki was a whore.

A beautiful one. He let him abuse his hand for a while, then moved closer. "Are you sure this will be enough?" And he moved his fingers, stretching the Trickster to his limit.

He gritted his teeth tight, but it wasn't enough to stop the next words from tumbling out: "N-no.. It's not, I need..!!"

He wanted more, so selfish and demanding as always, but nothing else seemed to matter. Loki's desires screamed for him to take Thor in as far as he could. He could reach his completion just like this, split open and bared for his brother to see.

Orgasm lurched at his stomach. His cock twitched dangerously between his thighs. He had to push his thighs together before it was over too soon. ".. Your bl-blade.. I want you to stuff it inside, Thor Odinson. Please take me, please.."

Mouth hot and wet, he shakily drew himself up to kiss him, to make his case in soft gasps against his ear. "I want you to fill me and stretch me, use me, make me yours..!"

"So shall be it." The remaining oil was poured on Thor's impressive, darkened manhood, every inch of skin coated in the slick substance with a few moves of his hand. He smeared the excess over Loki's backside, then the prince took his member and pushed against the opening. He went slowly but without stopping or hesitating, until he was fully sheathed inside.

He had to grit his teeth and calm his thundering heart; the tightness was almost too much. He never felt like this before, and he thought now he had an inkling why proud males engaged into such degrading acts.

His mouth watered, and as Thor prepared himself, his brother found his body overcome with the urge to kneel and degrade itself by slurping every drop of seed from the hefty member. He held himself open in shaking hands, legs spread and manhood dripping against his lower abdomen, and took deep, calming breaths.

There was no tearing, as there had been when he'd offered his lass' self to his brother. Instead there was a constant stretching. It was like a dull ache, burning him up from the inside out and twisting his mind until he was dizzy and breathless. Pulse roaring in his ears, he could barely understand why Thor's voice sounded so different as it whimpered, pleaded, hissing on breath.

Then he realized the voice was his own. He dug his fingernails into his own fleshy cheeks, and after crossing his ankles at the small of Thor's back, pushed forward. It didn't take much. This man knew him more deeply than anyone else could ever say; there was proof enough in that when he felt silken hardness of testicles against the dip of his ass and knew that he'd taken every blessed inch inside.

"You're.. so.. deep.." he stuttered.

"Nay... You are deep and I am long," the breathless, amused reply came. "We have always fit. Like lock and key." Thor held his brother close and lowered themselves on the floor until he was sitting on his heels, almost like back then. He caressed his brother's flushed face with a thumb and kissed him lightly. "Ride us to Valhalla," he whispered.

The change in position made him groan heavily. He buckled forward--it felt like Thor was rammed up right behind his heart. While such a thing was ridiculous and physically impossible, it still felt breathtakingly decadent. He was impaled, trembling around the hot length, and cursing under his breath as his wet feet slid along marble for purchase. "D-damn you.."

They'd made love in this way before, Loki with breasts and a womb and Thor smirking, whispering nonsense that compared his brother's false form to those of Valkyries. To say that he didn't prefer this himself was completely false--he enjoyed being able to control depth and speed. Hands tight on Thor's shoulders, he gained enough balance to lift himself up halfway.

"Ahhh..." It was a lapse of fullness that was nearly heartbreaking; he sank down again, taking himself with no semblance of control. "Oh, yes.. You feel so good.."

With a contented smile, Thor helped him rise and fall, his strong hands on the sharp hipbones. He couldn't keep down the moans though; it indeed felt good, so good, the pleasure latched on his spine like a demon of fire, gnawing on his nerves. The oil worked well - everything was slippery enough and that tightness... it was his undoing. "I'm glad I can make you happy, brother mine."

He pushed forward, but the movement merely teased his aching cock instead of providing the friction he wanted. So he tried to take himself in hand--the result almost sent him to the floor, as his brother's body was the only thing keeping him upright. When he let go, his other slick hand slipped, and it took a few rough jerks to Thor's shoulders for him to resume his whorish, bow-legged stance.

At least with all the jostling, his muscles tensed in frustration, and though he was unable to touch himself, he was rewarded with drag after delicious drag of flesh against raw nerves. "Yessss.. Just like that.."

His breath emerged as a hiccupped sob. Loki's blunt nails dug into skin, and with a frenzied cry, he seated himself again. And again. Again. He sank low, pulled up, bore down, clenched

the sensations all melding to one steady burn in the pit of his stomach.

Thankfully, Thor tended to realize things, even if not immediately. One of his hands rested on the small of his brother's back while the other gripped his bouncing member tight. He began to move as well, thrusting up to dive deeper into the pale body. "Better? Just hold on to me."

"Blessed Father, I'm going to scream if you--!!" Thor hit something. Hard. It made his knees buckle and his words die, rotting into unintelligible syllables and sounds more befitting a she-wolf in heat. Somehow, somehow, he held fast. His hips pushed down to meet the thrusts, skin slapping skin, slick over flesh, heat piercing heat, and he was merciless, so merciless, ramming up inside-- Loki was coming apart, breaking under the movements, swallowed by the breath, voice, touchskinfeelthereyesthere...

It swept him away. His entire body went rigid, and from the toes up, he felt pleasure he'd never known before. Surges of white heat centered around their union, then pushed out in sticky, wet lines of white that painted Thor's chest in their depraved kiss.

And though he was taut, back arched in a bridge and lips gasping to Valhalla, he had enough mobility to keep moving, keep riding, to take these moments and grasp them as long as he could.

The gentle smile on Thor's lips seemed a bit odd, even more so as his eyes fluttered shut. He made sure to milk the twitching, trembling erection, then took Loki's hips and slammed inside him. He was close, pleasure coiling in his guts like a sneak; and it almost struck just as unexpectedly. The golden prince threw his head back and cried out; his seed flooded Loki's insides, hot and powerful.

He groaned, deep and low, while he was marked so far inside. His arms were tight around the back of Thor's neck, forehead against his throat, and he found himself whispering: "Good boy, so good.. I want it all inside, it feels so good.."

If it were anyone else, he'd feel disgusting. But this was Thor, perfect, golden Thor, and he'd reached right into the darkness to give Loki the Traitor one last glimpse of paradise.

The afterglow lasted long; the tempest of pleasure quieted, racing hearts slowed down and breathing calmed. Thor was still buried deeply into his pale brother, just holding him close and enjoying the intimacy. Just like back then, on silken sheets and furs, in Loki's fragrant bedroom, basking in the afternoon light or the moon's kiss; the quiet contentedness was the very same.

Just like back when they were wild youth, without a worry or care for the future. The same peace lingered now. And albeit death's venom was slithering at the edges, Thor closed his mind to it. He didn't want to think that in just an hour or two, his beloved brother will be no more.

He tipped his head up a little bit, tasting the pale pink lips, as if tasting a new wine or a decadent sugary treat. "Have you seen the Golden Gates...?"

He smiled against the kiss, just taking every sweet, lazy second he could to glide their tongues together and map out the surface of his mouth like exploring it for the first time. When he broke away, it was only to kiss his mouth again, then rest their cheeks together: skin on hair, itchy beard not quite an annoyance as it might've been before. "Yes.. Every time you've taken me, I've looked straight into Valhalla," he murmured, and held him tight, "You make me feel amazing. No one has ever loved me as deeply as you, brother mine."

"Had I gone any deeper, you'd be tasting me on your silver tongue..." Thor's shoulders shook with laughter. But the strange, hot wetness Loki could feel on his shoulder spoke of something else than merriment. "We'll have to clean up, we both. What would they think if they got wind of what we did here."

Though his throat tightened, he willed himself to stay strong. He'd shed his tears, begged forgiveness; there was nothing left for him to do. He would accept his punishment with his head held high, and would face his imminent death with nary a moment's hesitation, for he had the love of the one who mattered most. Gently, he lifted the lion's proud face and clasped it between his hands.

"Please, beloved.. Know that despite my forked tongue and the venom I spat at you, you were the only light in my world." He pressed their lips together, soft and slow. "I've loved you above all else. I am yours, always."

"Stop it my love, my brother. Do not torment me anymore. Tell me you hate me, that you wish me dead, that my light has burned you and despair took your soul!" Thor's eyes were wells of pain. "Say I drove you into betrayal, that your actions were caused by bitter aches and neglect on my side! I should have loved you tenfold. I was no good brother to you; hate me because I deserve it."

He curled his fingers in his brother's damp hair and then pulled him close. His lips trailed over tear tracks, though there were more of his own edging to break. How often had he thought such things? His envy was still a bitter aftertaste on the back of his tongue, still resided on his skin like the ash from a burned corpse, still urging him to scream loud and cruel that yes, yes, it was always Thor! But he stayed silent. Too long, he had ignored the small pleas of the lad inside, who was terrified of the monster he would eventually become. He would ignore him no longer. "You would take the fall for me," he murmured. Somehow, his voice was steady. "You would gladly accept blame, when you know that my actions were through no fault of your own. I must pay, my brother; I must accept my fate with courage. But I cannot be brave if my heart hasn't a chance to speak: it is black and twisted, but it loves Thor Odinson with all that it is."

Thor closed his eyes briefly, swallowed back his tears and smiled, cupping his brother's face. "You shall be always with me in my heart, Loki Odinson. There will be no minute, waking or dreaming when I won't remember you. And once I'm blessed with children, I will tell them of your valor and wisdom; your finery and your love. You will be remembered as the Trickster, not the Traitor. I swear upon Mjolnir's might."

"Kiss them twice for me, every night." He smiled weakly, knowing well that their time was drawing to a close. Loki was certain he heard footsteps nearby, perhaps in the halls outside, and felt his heart crumble. It would be over soon. "You will be a fine king, Thor. I know that you will be wise, just, and compassionate--you will be greater a king than Allfather himself. Asgard will forever sing your praises."

And he would too, from the depths of Hel, where he belonged. His eyes dropped, grief furrowing his brows. He boasted of courage, but he was terrified of what was to come. Thor had always protected him, yet this was one battle that Mjolnir herself could not win.

The silence that descended on the bathchamber remained undisturbed for the rest of the time. Thor dutifully bathed his brother, dried him with soft towels and clothed him without hesitation. The garments were of the same fashion as his prisoner clothes, with clasps at the shoulder so his hands won't need to be freed. They were fine fabrics though, worthy of a prince.

Thor dressed as well then produced a chain which he clipped to the shackles. His expression, his gestures, his posture all spoke loudly about his unwillingness; he was not looking forward to lead his brother to Odin's court. But he had no choice.

He stepped closer for a last kiss. "May Valhalla's light illuminate your path," he whispered.


End file.
